


Bedtime Stories

by bluecurls



Series: Mine, Always [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 09:54:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8281678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluecurls/pseuds/bluecurls
Summary: Hermione wants a story. Remus tells her one.





	

"Tell me a story," she whispered.

His arms tightened around her small frame as she snuggled closer. He loved when they were like this, curled into each other, arms and legs entwined, her head tucked under his chin. "What story would you like?" he asked even though he knew the answer.

"Our story." It was her favorite to hear; his favorite to tell.

"Once upon a time," he began, "there was a little boy named Remus. He lived with his mum and dad in a small house in Littleborough. He was a happy boy who loved books, playing outside and his mum, but one day a bad werewolf came to his house and bit him."

Her hand automatically went to the scar on his body. Her small fingers traced it lightly, almost reverently. There was a time he wanted to hide his scars from her, to keep that part of his life from tainting hers, but she wouldn't hear of it. As he felt her lips on the scar that caused him so much pain, so much suffering, he gave thanks for the stubborn woman in his arms.

"You better stop or I won't finish the story," he warned. A soft giggle her only response. He let her continue, knowing she wouldn't quit until her lips ghosted over every inch of the old wound, a familiar gesture that helped heal years of pain.

"The werewolf's bite didn't kill Remus, but it hurt him. He became a werewolf, changing every full moon into the same monster that damned him. He was too young to understand what was happening. He only knew that his mother cried a lot and his father was angry. He tried to be good, to stay out of trouble, to make them happy, but nothing worked. Every month they would lock him in a cage and every month he’d feel his body break.

"His family moved often. They didn't want anyone to know what happened to Remus, so they’d leave before people asked questions. He never had a chance to make friends and even if he did, he was scared try. His parents said he could hurt people. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He didn't want to make anyone like him.

"The day he turned 11, a strange man arrived. He was an old, with a white beard that fell nearly to his waist. Remus knew he was a wizard. His father was a wizard and he always hoped he’d be one, too, but witches and wizards went to school to learn about magic. Remus' parents said it was too dangerous for him. The strange man didn't agree. He spoke to Remus, spoke with his parents, and said Remus could attend school. He'd make sure his secret would never get out, and that Remus would be kept away from the students and staff during the full moon. Six months later, Remus was on a train called the Hogwarts Express."

"Was he scared?" she whispered.

"Very. He was excited about school, but terrified by thought of being around kids his own age. He didn't know how to talk to them, so he found an empty compartment on the train, opened a book, and pretended not to listen to the boys who entered a few minutes later."

"They were loud, weren't they?"

"So loud," he agreed. "Almost obnoxious, but so self-assured. They knew who they were and where they belonged. Remus wished he could be like that, too. The boys were sorted into Gryffindor. So was Remus. They were assigned to the same dormitory and while Remus organized his things for the first day of classes, the loudest of the trio jumped on his bed."

_"Are you a brain?" he asked._

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I mean, are you smart? Do you like to read? Will you turn your assignments in on time?"_

"Remus didn't know how to answer. He did like to read. His mum said he was smart and of course he was going to turn his assignments in on time, but he wasn't sure if he should tell the boy that. He stayed quiet, but the boy refused to move until he answered, so he did."

_"Yes."_

_"To which question?"_

_"All of them."_

_The boy called Sirius nodded. "Guess I have my work cut out for me, huh?"_

_Remus was confused. "What do you mean?"_

_"Never you mind," he replied with a sneaky grin._

"Remus loved Hogwarts. He loved the classes. He loved the teachers. He even loved the homework. That made his roommates laugh, but because he helped them with their homework, they didn't make fun of him. In fact, all of the boys in that dorm became friends. Remus didn't even realize it until he went home for Christmas and answered 'Yes' when his mom asked if he made a new friend. He had three."

He paused, like he always did at this part. Three friends. Three boys. Sirius. James. Peter. She knew he wanted to cut Peter from the story, to forget the blond boy he once loved like a brother, but couldn't. She told him it was all right, that it wasn't disrespectful to James or Sirius to remember the good Peter. He hugged her close, grateful as always for her understanding.

"Remus never told his friends that he was a werewolf. When the full moon came, he lied and told them he was visiting his sick mother. They didn't know he'd spend his night in the Shrieking Shack; that he was the reason people thought it was haunted.

"His friends were smarter than he realized. They saw how anxious Remus got every month and how tired he was after visiting home. They did something they promised they'd never do and went to the library without Remus making them. They did their research. There were several possibilities that could explain Remus' secret, but lycanthropy made the most sense. They decided not to question Remus. He was so skittish; they worried questions would make him leave Hogwarts. Instead, they spied on him. James had an invisibility cloak and the three boys used it to sneak out of the castle. They didn't see Remus become a werewolf, but they heard the howls. They listened to their friend, each boy wincing with every scream. When Professor Dumbledore arrived the next morning to accompany a tired, bruised and bloodied Remus to the infirmary, they made a pact that they would do something to help.

"Remus didn't know it, but James, Sirius and Peter decided to become Animagi. For four years, they worked and studied, keeping their project a secret from Remus. The night before the first full moon of their fifth year, the boys asked Remus to sneak outside with them. He did and watched in amazement as his friends became a dog, a stag and a rat."

_"What did you do?" he asked, unable to believe what he was seeing._

_"Do you like it?" Sirius grinned after transforming back to himself. "We thought maybe the wolf might give you a break if you had someone to play with."_

"Remus couldn't believe his eyes. Or his ears. They knew. They knew he was a werewolf and they didn't care. Or, rather, they did care, but not about their well-being. They knew Remus wouldn't hurt them and they didn't want the wolf to keep hurting their friend."

He felt moisture on his chest. She was crying. She always cried at this part. He kissed the top of her head, rubbing her back soothingly as she sniffled. "Should I stop?" he whispered.

She shook her head. Her hair tickled his nose. He felt her shudder as she drew in a deep breath. She let it out slowly, her breath warm on his skin. "It's okay. I'm ready now."

He kissed the top of her head and continued. "Remus considered his friends his family, but they became Pack that night. When he woke up the next morning, it was with a feeling of peace he never experienced before. The wolf had spent the night with his Pack and didn't take his frustrations out on Remus. He was tired, of course, and his body was sore from the transformation, but that was it. Nothing was broken, nothing was bloodied. Professor Dumbledore was amazed. Remus was, too, but he kept his friends' secret, just as they kept his.

"Five years had passed since Remus first met Sirius, James and Peter, but it wasn't until that was the moment he truly believed they were his friends. He decided he wouldn't be afraid anymore, that he would enjoy everything his life had to offer. Sirius was thrilled. Finally, his corruption of the bookworm was complete."

She snickered. She always had a hard time picturing him as a troublemaker despite the stories he told her and the stories he wished Sirius hadn't.

"The following years went by fast. The boys caused trouble, made trouble, got in trouble. They called themselves the Marauders, creating nicknames and a map that guaranteed their success in carrying out the greatest pranks in Hogwarts history, despite what a pair of redheaded twins claim.

"But life wasn't perfect. A war was brewing, a battle between dark wizards and light. At the center was a man who thought all magical beings should be purebloods, not half-bloods like Remus or Muggleborns like James' girlfriend, Lily. Remus and his friends watched helplessly as people they knew, people they loved, chose sides. Friends were hurt, even killed. They couldn't do anything about it while they were in school, but the moment they graduated, they joined the fight, proclaiming their loyalty to the light and the Order of the Phoenix.

"Dumbledore thought he could use Remus' affliction to his advantage. He sent him on missions to infiltrate werewolf packs throughout the United Kingdom, searching for those who’d fight against Lord Voldemort. To protect himself, and his secret, Remus guarded the nature of his missions, not knowing this made Sirius think he was a traitor.

"Because no one could reach Remus while he was away, he was unaware of the prophecy that said Harry Potter, James and Lily's son, had the power to defeat Voldemort. He wasn't there when James and Lily died protecting Harry, nor was he there when Sirius was arrested for the murder of Peter Pettigrew. Others told him Sirius was a secret Death Eater, he was the one who told Voldemort where to find the Potters. He didn't want to believe them, but nothing else made sense. James was gone. Peter was gone. It had to be Sirius."

She raised herself up just enough so she could press her lips against his. She hated this part. She moved back, but he grasped her head in his hands, deepening the kiss. She opened her mouth and his tongue swept inside. He kissed her desperately, frantically, a man haunted by loss. He didn't want to remember. He needed her to make him forget. She gripped his hands with hers, her fingernails dug into his skin as she returned his kisses with her own frenzy. How she loved him. How she wished she could take away his pain.

"I love you," she panted between kisses. "I love you. I love you."

He slowed his ministrations, her whispered words a balm to his soul. His hold loosened as his kisses softened. He brushed his lips over her cheeks, her eyelids, and the tip of her nose. "Look at me," he begged.

She opened her eyes, a beautiful brown the color of whiskey. Her gaze was steady as he stared at her, assuring himself she was there, with him, and they were safe. "I love you," he whispered.

She smiled, the movement of her lips almost smug as she pressed forward to kiss him before shifting so she was back in his arms, her head on his chest, one arm curled around his shoulder, the other wrapped around his lean waist. He took a deep breath and continued.

"Voldemort tried to kill Harry, but couldn't. Instead, the boy lived and Voldemort died. So many people in the Wizarding World celebrated this outcome, but Remus couldn't. In one night, he lost everyone he cared about. He left England. He didn't want to be reminded of his friends, his family, his pack. He traveled the world, finding work when he could, living with werewolves when he couldn't. He was in Asia when Harry Potter entered Hogwarts; the boy's story was even known amongst the witches and wizards there. He considered going to Scotland, to see if he could catch sight of Harry, but his guilt and shame wouldn't allow it. He wasn't there for James and Lily when they needed him. He wasn't there for Harry after. He convinced himself the boy was better off without him.

"Two more years passed. At this point, Remus was living in Yorkshire, working part-time for a grocer. He lived in a small flat in a dodgy neighborhood. He had no friends. His mum was gone and his father was finally living a peaceful life, one Remus did not want to disturb. He accepted his penance. Then, one afternoon, there was a knock on his door. He ignored it - no one had reason to visit him - but whoever was at the door was insistent. For the second time in his life, he saw Albus Dumbledore at his front door."

_"Remus," Dumbledore said. "You look well."_

_Remus scoffed. It was the day after the full moon. He looked like hell and he knew it. "What do you want?" he grumbled. "The war is over, so I can't imagine you need me to play spy."_

_"You'd be surprised," Dumbledore replied._

"Remus was offered a teaching position at Hogwarts – Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Dumbledore said he had faith in Remus' abilities and that he would personally fill in on the days Remus couldn't teach. Full-time employment. A place to live. Three meals a day. It seemed too good to be true and, of course, it was.

"Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban. Remus couldn't believe it when Dumbledore told him. No one ever escaped from Azkaban. If Sirius could, why’d he wait so long? He voiced that question out loud and the answer came to him quickly: Harry."

_"I need your help protecting the boy, Remus," Dumbledore told him. "If Sirius Black comes after him, I need to know you'll fight for Harry."_

"Remus promised and a month later, he was on the Hogwarts Express, sitting in the same compartment he sat in all those years ago. The full moon had passed for another month, but he was still tired and ill. He pulled his robes over him as a blanket, and leaned against the window. He hoped he'd have the compartment to himself, but just as he was at that moment between asleep and awake, he smelled something. He couldn't describe the scent. It was a combination of all his favorite things: the woods after a summer rain, fresh parchment, ink, leather books and chocolate. It was beautiful. Remus sat up, wondering where it came from, what it meant, when the wolf answered."

_"It's her."_

_"Her who?"_

_"Your mate. She's come."_

"He was shocked. Werewolves mate for life, but it's a rare occurrence. What little he knew sounded like a fairy tale. He knew there was a possibility he had one; that somewhere there was a woman who was everything he wanted, but he never thought he'd find her. In all of his years alone, he never allowed himself to think of her and suddenly, she was there. On the train. He wanted to shout. He wanted to hide. He couldn't wait to see her. His heart was beating so fast, he thought it would burst from his chest, but at the same time, he felt calm. It was like something had clicked inside him, as if everything he'd ever done was meant to happen so that he would be there at this very moment.

"The scent was getting closer. He had closed his eyes and was breathing deeply when the compartment door opened. He heard three voices, two boys and hers. Hers! Only, it wasn't the voice of an adult woman, but a young girl."

_"Professor R.J. Lupin," she told her companions._

_"How do you know that?" one of the boys asked._

_"It's on his bag," she replied in an exasperated voice._

"Remus kept his eyes closed, scared what he might do if he saw her. Instead, he listened to their conversation, wishing she'd never stop talking and hating himself for feeling that way."

_"What's wrong?" the wolf asked._

_"She's a child!"_

_"She's ours."_

_"She's. A. Child."_

_"It matters not; she's ours."_

_"It matters to me! I'm her teacher. Hell, I'm probably old enough to be her father!"_

_"But you're not," the wolf purred._

_"This is wrong."_

_"Love is never wrong."_

_"Love? LOVE? Are you serious?"_

_"Are you?"_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"How do you feel? Don't look at her. Don't think about her age. Don't think at all. Tell me how you feel."_

"He was quiet as he considered the wolf's question. Her scent surrounded him, the aroma filled his heart. Muscles that were achy and tense minutes before relaxed. The headache at the base of his skull was gone. He felt tranquil, nearly peacful. This was where he was supposed to be."

_"See?" the wolf sneered._

_"But she's so young."_

_"She won't be young forever. When the time is right, you will claim her."_

_"I can't."_

_"You can. You will."_

_"But she … she doesn't know this. She deserves to have a choice."_

_"And you? What do you deserve? What do you desire? What do you want?"_

"And he knew. In that moment, he knew without a doubt that he wanted her. It made him feel old. Dirty. Wrong. But it was the truth and yet there was more to it. He wanted to be the one who took care of her, the one who held her when she was hurt, who listened to her stories, who made her laugh when she was sad. He wanted to be everything to her: friend, teacher, confidant, protector and, eventually – he didn't want to think about it then - lover."

_"Wait for our mate," the wolf advised. "Watch over her. Care for her. Keep her safe."_

_"I can do that."_

_The wolf laughed._

_"What?"_

_"She won't make it easy, human."_

"He had no idea how the wolf knew that, but he was right. The girl was drawn to trouble like a moth to a flame. In one year, he watched as she nearly killed herself taking a double course load. She isolated herself from her two best friends for weeks because of a broom."

"And who were her best friends?" she interrupted. "You forgot that part."

He smiled. "Her two best friends were two boys – Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Remus couldn't believe that the boy he was there to protect was best friends with his mate. He panicked, thinking that perhaps there was something more between the two, but after a few weeks observing the trio, it was obvious she considered him a brother."

"A rather annoying brother at times," she couldn’t help but add.

"Do you want to tell the story?"

"No."

"Then please keep your interruptions to a minimum."

He could feel her grin. "And if I don't?"

"I'm sure I'll think of something.” His voice was low, nearly gravelly as he ran his hands down her back, going lower to cup her ass. He shifted slightly, pulling her to him as he pushed against her. She moaned softly, the sound going straight to his groin. "Be a good girl," he whispered, "and we can play later."

She whimpered, lifting her leg to wrap around both of his. He let her move against him, loving the feel of her, always wanting more, needing more. She made him forget who he was, what he was doing, to the point where all he craved was her, all he needed was her. The urge to give in, to give her what she wanted, what he wanted, was strong, but he didn't. Wouldn't. All too often he'd let her get her way. She needed to remember he was the alpha. He moved his hands to her shoulders and pushed her away from him. "Enough," he growled.

"But -"

"You wanted the story.” He rolled on to her side. He followed suit, his front to her back. His cock, still hard, cushioned between the globes of her bottom. She lifted one of his hands to her lips, her small tongue licking his fingers.

"You're going to be the death of me," he rasped, pulling out of her grip once more.

She huffed, but lay her head down on his arm, smiling when she felt him bury his face in her neck. She was quiet as he breathed in her scent. It never failed to calm him. Seconds later, she felt his body relax behind her. "Do you want me to continue?"

"Yes," she pleaded.

He pushed himself against her, one hand moved to brush the underside of her breast. "Are you sure?"

She clasped his hand in hers, glaring in the dark as he chuckled. "Yes!"

"Very well," he replied, his mouth close to her ear. She shivered as he ran his tongue along her lobe, biting softly. "Now, where was I? Right, the girl: Hermione. He couldn't have chosen a more troublesome girl as his mate," he continued, ignoring her huff of indignation. "Remus thought protecting Harry would be difficult, but he didn't realize his mate was protecting Harry, too – only in her mind, that meant putting herself in dangerous situations in order to keep him safe. If she had to take on Sirius Black to save Harry, she would, and that scared him to death."

"It sounds to me like she could take care of herself," she sniffed.

"And it sounds to me like someone no longer wants a story," he threatened.

"Sorry."

She wasn't, but he let it go. He liked the part coming up too much to pretend he wouldn't tell it.

"As predicted and feared, Sirius Black did go Hogwarts, but he wasn't the only Marauder at the school. Peter Pettigrew, the man everyone though Sirius murdered after helping Voldemort kill James and Lily, was at there, too. For years, he had maintained his Animagus form, living as the pet of Ron Weasley. No one knew this, not until the night Harry saw Peter's name on the Marauder Map. He snuck out of bed, with his father's cloak and the map James had created with his best friends, and searched for Peter, not knowing he was hunting a rat, not a man.

"His investigation was cut short by two professors – Remus and Severus Snape. Remus confiscated the map, knowing Sirius Black could use it to get to Harry, and then sent the boy back to Gryffindor Tower. What he didn't know was that Remus spent all night staring at the parchment, waiting for Peter to show himself. If he was alive, that meant everything he believed could be wrong. He was hopeful, so hopeful. He wanted his friend back.

"Time passed. Remus missed several classes because of his infliction, not knowing that Dumbledore chose to have Professor Snape fill in. Snape, an old acquaintance of Remus', decided to focus his lesson on werewolves, hoping someone would use that information and discover Remus' secret. And one person did: Hermione. She read the texts, wrote the essay, and realized what Snape hoped to do. Only she didn't fall for his trap. She kept her secret, Remus' secret, to herself."

"She's a smart girl," she smiled, thinking of the big-toothed, bushy-haired know-it-all.

"Brightest witch of her age," he agreed.

"What did he say when she confronted him?"

"That was a night neither one will ever forget. She had snuck out of the castle – _again_ – in hopes of comforting a friend. Instead, she and the boys came across Sirius Black. He, too, had discovered Peter Pettigrew was alive and came back to Hogwarts to commit the murder he'd spent 12 years imprisoned for. He was filled with anger, with hate, when Remus found him in the Shrieking Shack, ranting in front of three terrified teens, one who held his pet rat clutched in his hands.

"Remus embraced his friend. It took time, more time than he wanted to admit, but he finally figured out the truth. Sirius was innocent. He’d never betray James and Lily. In fact, Sirius insisted they make Peter their Secret Keeper because no one would suspect it. No one knew of the switch, making it easy for Peter to inform the Dark Lord of the Potters' whereabouts, and pin their deaths on Sirius. The truth was out, at least for Remus and Sirius, but the teens still didn't understand – especially the young girl who was angry at her professor. Not scared; angry."

_"I trusted you," she shouted at Remus, her nostrils flaring, her face flushed._

"What did he think when she was yelling at him?"

"He thought he was a lucky man to have a mate who was so intelligent, so loyal, and so trustworthy. He wouldn't let himself think about her temper and how much he would enjoy her passionate nature someday … but he may have considered it for a second."

"Such a naughty professor," she teased.

"Luckily, she loves that about him.” He pushed her hair aside so he could kiss her neck. He dragged his tongue along her skin. He moved lower, to the scar on her collarbone. His mark. His claim. His. He kissed it, nibbled.

"The truth came out," he continued, moving his head away from her so he wouldn't be tempted to interrupt the story again. "Remus and Sirius were able to transform the rat into Peter. Sirius' innocence was verified, but there wouldn't be a happy ending. There was a full moon that night and Remus had forgotten to take his Wolfsbane Potion. Not of his own mind, he prepared to attack the teens, forcing Sirius to turn into his Animagus form to protect them. They were safe, but this gave Peter the opportunity to escape.

"Though Peter got away, Sirius managed to evade capture, too, thanks to Harry and Hermione. Unfortunately, Remus couldn't stay at Hogwarts after that. The news of his infliction would make his employment at Hogwarts uncomfortable. He didn't want to leave. The idea of not being there for his mate filled him with dread. He knew what she was capable of when he was around to protect her; what would happen when he wasn't? He made Harry promise to look after his friends, the only oath he felt he could demand without drawing attention to himself."

"And he left?"

"He left, but he didn't go far. She wouldn't see him for almost two years, but he saw her. He visited Hogsmeade when he knew she was there. She was happy. That made him happy. He spent time with Sirius, who would share missives from Harry. He'd ask if he wrote about the girl, desperate for more information. Again, he didn't want to alert Sirius to his predicament, but he knew Remus too well."

_"She's only a girl, a child! She's Harry's best friend, Remus. You can't claim his best friend as your mate!"_

_Remus jumped to his feet, anger and frustration taking over. He pushed Sirius against the wall, his forearm pressed against his friend's neck. "Do you honestly think I asked for this? That I saw her and **chose** her as mine? I can't control this, Sirius. That's not how it works!"_ _Shoving away, he paced the dark study, his movements stiff as he tried to calm the wolf inside._

_"Moony …"_

_He shook his head angrily. Nothing Sirius said right now would help. He wasn't stupid. He knew the situation was wrong. She was a girl; an extremely bright and mature girl, but a girl nonetheless._

_Sighing, he sat in an armchair, his forearms resting on his legs. He was exhausted. "I don't want her, not in the physical sense."_

_Sirius sat, too, sprawling on the worn leather couch in casual stance that said more about trust than words ever could. He wasn't scared of Remus, of Moony. He knew he had control, that while he would get angry, get frustrated, he wouldn't hurt him. "I don't understand. You tell me she's your mate, but you don't want her?"_

_"Not now. She's too young. The feelings I have for her now, it’s not love. Well, it is, but it isn’t. It’s …” He struggled to put into words what he felt. It was basic. Instinct. How did one explain something that was as natural to him as breathing? “They're protective,” he finally said. “She is the most important thing to me, Sirius. It's my job to make sure she's safe."_

_He sighed. "You barely know her, Remus."_

_"That doesn't matter. She's mine."_

"That's so romantic," she sighed.

He snorted. "Sirius felt differently, seeing as she was only 15 at the time."

"Keep going," she begged.

"The next few years were difficult for Remus. He was used to being alone, but now that he knew he had a mate, knew who she was, he was desperate to be with her. Voldemort had returned and that added another layer to his fear. Voldemort would go after Harry. She would protect him, even if it meant standing in front of the Dark Lord. He thought about taking her, sneaking into the castle and grabbing her in the middle of the night, hiding her somewhere where she'd be safe."

"She'd have killed you if you tried."

"And part of him knew that, just like part of him knew Harry needed her. That was what he told himself the night she suffered a curse at the Department of Mysteries. He sat next to her bed in the infirmary, one of her small hands in his, damning the Death Eater who caused her scar. He saw the others look at him, wondering why he was so concerned about a girl he barely knew, but he couldn't bring himself to care. His mate was injured. She almost died. And he did nothing to stop it."

She rolled over, rubbing her cheek against his. "You didn't know. None of us did."

He closed his eyes, still picturing how she looked in that bed. So small. So frail. So his.

_"She's going to be fine, Moony," Sirius said, his eyes wary as he studied his friend. He looked exhausted. His eyes were bloodshot, his face drawn, as he studied the pale girl in the bed. He held one of her hands in both of his. He kept one finger on her wrist, the study beat of her pulse the only thing keeping him from completely losing it._

_"I was almost too late," he whispered, his voice breaking at the thought of what could have happened. As long as he lives, he'll never forget the fear that gripped him when he was contacted._

_A break-in at the Ministry. Harry. His friends. Death eaters._

_Hermione._

_"But you weren't."_

_"Sirius –"_

_"Remus. You have to stop. You want to protect her? You want to survive this fight so you can claim her as your own?"_

_"Yes," he said softly, his gaze never leaving her face._

_"Then you have to let go. Let go of the guilt. Let go of the fear. Let go of her. Trust that if the fates have decided she's yours, then both of you will survive to make that happen. But you can't fight and protect her at the same time."_

"So he did. It went against every instinct he had, and the wolf made him pay for it time and time again, but he walked away. He had a job to do. She did, too. He wouldn't stand in her way, no matter how much it killed him."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I never wanted you to suffer."

It was his turn to rub his cheek against hers. "You didn't know, sweetheart. You couldn't. It wasn't the right time."

She pulled back so he could see her face. She had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. "Tell me about the right time."

"You want to skip over the battles?"

"Yes, please."

He did, too. It still hurt to think of the people they lost. He was grateful, so very grateful, that her life was spared. He remembered seeing her in the Great Hall, how her face had lit up when he limped inside. She ran to him, nearly knocking him off his feet as she hugged him.

_"Now!" the wolf demanded. "Take her now!"_

He had tightened his hold for a second, but he knew, despite the beast screaming in his head, that it wasn't the right time. There was too much pain, too much death. Instead, he had rested his chin on top of her head, closed his eyes and breathed in her scent. She was safe. She was alive. It was enough for now.

"It was getting harder for him to ignore the urges," he said in a low tone. His voice was soothing, seductive. It made her picture candlelight and silk sheets. She shivered, knowing what was coming next.

_"She needs you," the wolf implored._

_"She needs time."_

_"She wants you."_

_"She doesn't know what she wants."_

_"Tell her! Command her! Take her!"_

_"No! She **will** have a choice in this."_

_"You don't."_

"He didn't. Denying the wolf, denying himself, was taking a toll on Remus. The transformations were stronger, harder; the recovery longer. He felt decades older. The people around him chalked it up to the horrors of the war, coping with the aftermath. He couldn't be near her. He wanted to, desperately, but he no longer felt protective of her. Oh, he’d protect her. She was his mate and as such her safety and well-being was his utmost concern, but lust overrode all other emotions. Her scent drove him crazy, her smiles killed him. It took everything he had not to slam her against a wall and bury his cock deep inside her. He sat across from her at breakfast and imagined dragging her across the table, laying her out and devouring every inch of her. He wanted her every way he could take her: on her back, on her knees, standing, sitting, in the shower, over a chair. He wanted to fuck her. He wanted to make love to her. He wanted to taste her. He wanted her lips on him. He needed her in front of him, naked, her hair pushed over one shoulder, his hands gripping her waist as he moved inside her, harder, deeper. He needed to finger her, to feel her clit pulse and throb with every thrust of his cock. He wanted to make her come, make her scream, and when she did, he would bite her, claim her, and finally, _finally_ , end his fucking agony!"

Her eyes grew wide as he spoke. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out as images of what he described flashed through her mind. He made her want. He always made her want. Oh, how she needed him. Now! Right now! She'd die if he didn't touch her. "Remus," she begged, arching her back so that her breasts brushed against his chest. He could feel how hard her nipples were through the thin cotton of her T-shirt.

Correction; his T-shirt. She borrowed it one night and never gave it back. Perhaps it was time to take it.

"And still he didn't," he told her, moving so he was on his back, pulling her on top of him. She tried to sit up, but he banded his arms around her, keeping her close. Not yet. Soon, but not yet. "He was scared, you see. He knew what he wanted, but she didn't. She was only 18. He was 38. For seven years she'd been forced to fight a war she didn't choose. He wasn't going to take another choice out of her hands."

_"You'll die," the wolf hissed._

_"I lived without her before. I'll survive."_

_"That was before you knew her."_

_"It doesn't matter."_

_"But it does, human. She's part of you, part of me. She’s our soul. The longer you deny your feelings, the less time you have."_

"He didn't care. He knew her. If he told her she was his mate, that she had to promise herself to him or else he’d die, she'd say yes. That was the kind of person she was. He loved that about her and hated it, too.

"So he ran. He helped round up rogue Death Eaters, staying away for weeks at a time, returning to his room at Grimmauld Place only when he knew she’d be gone. He tried to eat. He tried to sleep. Nothing worked. Sirius begged him to talk to Hermione. Remus refused. She deserved more, better. He cared for her more than anything, loved her more than he ever thought possible. He would not damn her."

"He's a stubborn man," she murmured as she kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his lips.

"A stubborn and stupid man," he agreed. "Lucky for him, Sirius Black never listens to what people tell him. He refused to let Remus run away again. He knew what Moony wanted, what Remus needed, and he was going to make sure it happened.

"The full moon arrived. Moony was out of control. He could smell her. He knew she was near. He threw his body against the cage again and again. He needed to get to her. He had to see her. Sirius, Padfoot, tried to calm the wolf, but nothing worked. He left the basement, the wolf howling behind him."

_"She's here! Mine. Need her. Mine. Take. Mine."_

"And then she was there. The wolf stopped howling immediately. He couldn't believe it. She sat in a chair, as calm as can be, and spoke to him. He heard the trembling in her voice. She was scared but determined not to show it, and that made him love her more. She opened her book and she read out loud. She read for hours, her voice getting slower, hoarser, as she continued. When she couldn't continue, she apologized before curling up in the chair to sleep. The wolf watched her close his eyes and was silent. She was there. She was safe. And he knew, even before the human, that she recognized the bond. It wouldn't be long now.

"He was sore when he woke. Sore and tired, and yet he felt different because she was there. She made him breakfast and brought it to him in bed. The wolf was quiet as he ate; content. She watched him and he felt content, too. Then the flashbacks came, memories of the night before. The wanting. The needing. And then it stopped. She was there. And he knew. He knew that she knew. He looked at her, studied her. She didn't look afraid. She didn't look mad. She looked … uncertain. Empathetic. He felt ashamed."

"He shouldn't have.” She brushed his sandy brown hair away from his face. "He didn't have a choice."

"But he wanted her to have one. He wanted her to have everything."

She smiled. "Maybe she still would."

_"Go to her," the wolf commanded._

_"I will."_

_"Tell her."_

_"I will."_

_"Claim her."_

_"No."_

_"CLAIM HER!"_

_"No. She has to choose."_

_"If she doesn't choose us -"_

_"So be it."_

"But she did choose him."

"She did. He sat there, answering her questions, trying to put his feelings into words, not wanting to scare her, but so desperate to touch her, to hold her. The wolf was screaming 'Mine! Yours! Ours!' The room was filled with her scent. Every time she moved, it swirled through the air, dragging him closer. He was hers. She had him wrapped around her little finger and she didn't even know it.

"She wanted to know what it meant, being a werewolf's mate. He told her what he knew, that her well-being was his top priority. That he felt protective of her, possessive of her. That he had a deep desire to be anything she needed at any given time. He didn't talk to her about sex, he didn't want to scare her, but as they sat on that couch, one on each end, he imagined leaping to his feet, dragging her to the floor, and fucking every last question out of her. He would make her gasp, make her scream. He would make her feel so good; she’d have to choose him."

"She would have liked that."

"It wasn't fair. Not to her."

"And you always play fair?"

He smiled, slowly, his eyes flashing amber as they narrowed on her. "I've no need to anymore."

She kissed him then, her lips hard against his, teeth and tongues melding together. She moved against him, so wet, so ready, wanting him. She could feel how hard he was; hear how much he wanted her as he groaned into her mouth.

Who would break first?

"She asked her questions. She had a list. But the more they talked, the less she looked at it. They moved closer to each other, neither one aware they were doing so. It was like a pull, a magnet. He was attracted to her, she was attracted to him. They couldn't stop it. He could no longer deny it. He wanted to be unselfish, to be selfless, but in the end, she was too much and his need too great. He kissed her."

She laughed. "That's not how it happened. She kissed him."

He sat up, his hands clasped around her arms to bring her with him so she was kneeling on the bed, her legs on either side of his waist. He smiled at her indulgently. "Sweetheart, he grabbed her. Remember, she was yelling at him -"

"Probably because he was saying something stupid."

"—and he kissed her to shut her up."

The look she gave him was pure Hermione. Innocent. Mischievous. Challenging. "He should do that now, don't you think?"

The low growl in his throat was the only response, her only warning, before he pounced. She was on her back, her legs wrapped around him, her ankles locked at the small of his back. He ripped the T-shirt from her body, he mouth going to her breasts, kissing, licking, biting, tasting. She gasped, her hands tangled in his hair. It was so fast, so quick, she couldn't catch her breath.

"Remus!"

He ignored her, sliding down her body. Her knickers were ripped from her, the torn silk tossed across the room. "Naked," he panted. "You should always be naked."

And then his lips were on her, his tongue seeking out every fold. She was so wet. He made her so wet. He lapped at her, drank from her. His tongue was rough against her folds. He took everything she had and demanded more. She thrust her hips to meet his demands, but he wouldn't have that. He splayed one hand on her stomach, telling her to "Be still" in that gravelly voice that was more Moony than Remus. She could come from him whispering in her ear in that voice. She had before. She would again. And still he licked, sucked. He inserted one finger inside her, a second, and moved them in and out in a steady rhythm that had her head thrashing.

"Not slow!" she cried. "Fast! Hard!"

He didn't respond. His tongue was too busy circling her clit; the small bundle of nerves throbbed under his attention. He was going to make her scream. It would be like the first time. The tenth. The hundredth. How many times had he had her? How many times would he still? He didn't know. He didn't care; it would never be enough! She was branded on him. She was under his skin, inside his heart, imprinted on his brain. He couldn't breathe without her, sleep without her. She was his entire world, every single inch of her made for him and he for her.

Her. It was always her. His Hermione.

He felt her muscles clench around his fingers, the inside of her walls pulse. She was close. Her legs were tense, her body poised to take that leap, to dive into the pleasure he could give her. He took her clit in his mouth and sucked, twisting his fingers inside her at the same time.

"REMUS!" she screamed. Her grip on his hair so tight, it was painful.

He didn't care.

"Again," he demanded.

"Oh Gods, I can't."

"Yes, you can." He ran his tongue flat against her folds, lapping up every bit of her release. He removed his fingers and licked them clean before moving them her breasts. He took her nipples between his fingers, rubbing and twisting. He made the small red buds tight, so tight, and still he never stopped tasting her.

She could feel it building, just like he said it would. He was never wrong. Never. He knew her body, anticipated what she wanted before she even knew it. He never failed to bring her to completion, never failed to make her knees weak. He was a drug, her drug. She was addicted. Nothing would break her of him.

"Yes," she hissed, her hips pumping frantically. So close. She was so close. She let go of his hair, bringing her hands on top of his, still flicking her nipples. She wanted more. Needed more. "Pull," she gasped. "Pinch. Be rough, Remus. Oh Gods, please!"

The wolf inside him howled. He loved his mate. Craved her. Revered her. Every moment he wasn't inside her, he wanted to be. She was perfect, better than he ever imagined. She was worth the wait, worth the years of pain. He was no longer alone, never alone, with her by his side.

"Teeth!" she gasped.

He listened, drawing her clit in his mouth, sucking so hard and nibbling. She felt the sharpness, gasped at the sensation. "I love you!" she cried, the need in her belly tightening. She was going to explode in a million pieces, but she didn't care. She was too far gone. "Don't stop, don't stop," she panted. "Please don't, please don't, please …"

She broke, her cries of ecstasy went on and on, one right after the other. Her excitement poured from her. He lapped it up eagerly. He was hard, so fucking hard. He kicked his legs, ridding himself of his boxers. He needed to be in her. Here. Now. He crawled up her body. Her eyes were closed, her mouth open. She was panting. Her pulse was racing. He bent his head, licked his mark. It never failed to excite him.

His mark. Her skin. His.

He thrust inside her, not waiting for her to come down. She tried to yell, but all that came out was his name on a gasp.

"Look at me!” He braced himself on his forearms. "Look at me, Hermione!"

Heavy eyes opened. Her gaze was unfocused. He bent down, kissed her. He ran his tongue along her lips. She sighed. Content. Spent. That wouldn't do. "Remember the first time I had you against the wall, Hermione? It was after dinner. You were walking to our room and you looked so good, I had to take you."

She smiled. She lifted her arms to encircle his neck. He grabbed her wrists in one hand and lifted them over her head.

"I held you like this, remember? You asked to wait, to go to our room. Sirius was in the kitchen. So was Harry."

"I told you they'd hear us," she panted.

"And I told you I didn't care."

_He hadn't. He pushed her against the wall and flipped her skirt up, pulling her knickers down before she could protest. He unzipped his pants, took out his cock and teased her entrance, her objections dying with every swipe._

_"Tell me to stop," he'd whispered. "Tell me to stop and I will."_

_She arched her back, trying to draw him inside her. He could feel her wetness, could smell her excitement. She wouldn't last long. "Please," she whispered._

He slammed inside her, hips thrusting hard, fast, just like now. Always her. Never enough. He wanted harder, faster, deeper. More, more; always more.

"Up," he demanded, letting go of her wrists, pulling out of her body. Her whimper went straight to his dick. Could he get harder? He flipped to his back, pulling her on top of him. "Ride me. I want to see your face as you make me come."

Her legs were shaking, but she did what he asked, what he commanded. She knew what she was in for when she asked for their story. Every time, every time he got to the part about when she made her choice, when she accepted their destiny, he went wild. The wolf came out to play, to pounce. He was the hunter, she was the hunted. There was no way to escape, no chance she could outrun him. He would capture her, devour her, and she wouldn't care.

She lifted herself, readying to take him in her once more. He watched her, his face arrogant, cocky. This wasn't the gentle Remus everyone knew. There was no mild-mannered professor, no calming force. He was pushy, aggressive, dominant with a capital D. She loved when he made love to her. She loved when he fucked her. But this? Gods, how she loved when he controlled her.

"Now!"

She slammed down on him, his hips thrusting to meet her. He was so deep. She could feel him to her very core. There was no part of her he didn't touch. She fisted her hands on his chest, breathing deep. She felt him thrust, felt him piston. He wouldn't wait, couldn't. His hands were on her waist, his fingers digging deep as he moved her the way he wanted. She'd have bruises tomorrow. Seeing them would make him hard. He'd take her again. Slower, gentler, but he would have her.

"Move with me, baby. Come on, Hermione!"

He wasn't begging, but he was insistent. Her body followed his order automatically, so in tune to his wants, his desires. She lifted herself up, so high he nearly left her, coming back down fast. There was no need for slow, not tonight. Hard. Rough. Neither one wanted time to catch their breath, to whisper words of love, of devotion. That would come later. Now, it was purely animalistic. She was the only one who could tame him. He was the only one who could make her wild. Together, they were a storm, a grand turbulence with no anchor to ground them. The bed groaned with their movement, the headboard pounded against the wall. Did he remember the silencing charm? Did she? They didn't care. It was near. The end was near. He could feel his balls draw up. He wanted to come. He wanted to pour himself into her until he was drained.

"Come on!" He moved his hand to her clit. He flicked it. She gasped. He did it again. "Give me more, baby. I need you. I need you so much. My girl. My mate. Mine. Mine!"

She cried out, weeping with her release. He followed, his howl of ecstasy bounced off the walls. She collapsed on top of him, spent, weak, completely and utterly exhausted. He wrapped his arms around her, her skin damp with perspiration. He wanted to tell her how much he loved her. How much he needed her. She was essential to his life, his survival. She was everything. He opened his mouth, but he didn't know what to say. There were no words. How did you put something like that in words?

"Hermione … "

"I know." She slid to his side, her head resting on his heart. "Me, too."

He knew she did. Because she was Hermione and he was Remus. They were each other's loves, each other's partners, and each other's mate. He loved her before he knew her. Nothing, no one, would ever change that. "Tomorrow night, you tell a story," he requested as his eyes drifted shut.

She made a noise of agreement. "Which one do you want?"

He smiled. "Ours."

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading


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